Home for the Holidays
by HeartandHome
Summary: After being tortured, and then saved by her former fiancé, Jane can think of nothing but going home...and that means right into the waiting arms of Kurt Weller. (AU) (Relationship evolution by Holidays)
1. Chapter 1

Jane won't tell me what happened between now and our kiss. She won't tell me why I found her wet and shaking on my doorstep. She won't tell me why she looks so lost. And it scares the hell out of me – even as I step aside and invite her in. My mind is racing as I watch her take each shaky step into the foyer. There was maybe an hour between our kiss and now that was unaccounted for. What could have happened in that hour to change her into this empty shell?

My sister walks out of her room. She's just put Sawyer down for the night, we'd planned on sharing a glass of wine, talking about what I should do about this Jane situation. Thanksgiving was coming and I wanted her here – professionally or not so professionally. But Sarah takes one look at Jane and opens her mouth to start asking questions – this obviously isn't a social call. I'm quick to cut her off, the introverted brother she knew being replaced by Jane's protector. If Jane won't answer me, she's in no shape to deal with my sister. So I order Sarah to make some coffee, while I drag Jane into the bathroom.

I don't ask her permission and she doesn't stop me as I peel off first her jacket, then her tank top. I've imagined taking her clothes off more times in the last hour than I'd like to admit. It was hard not to wonder what it would feel like to run my hands down that alabaster skin, to kiss her in the privacy of my home. In any of the dozen scenarios that played through my mind having her half-naked in my bathroom after that mind-numbing kiss would have had me raring to go, but there is nothing sexual about this. My first priority is getting her warm, making her feel safe, fighting the urge to kill whoever did this to her.

"I know you don't want to talk." Jane eyes me warily. "I just want to know you're okay."

Nothing she says will convince me, we both know it, but I need something – anything. My mind is going a mile a minute. Was she mugged? Raped? Had someone from her past finally caught up with her? Was it that fiancé of hers? I pull a towel around her shoulders, rubbing her arms up and down. The longer she goes without answering me the worse I begin to imagine. My only distraction is Sarah, who saw the wet clothes on the floor and brought replacements.

"She can sleep in this," she says, passing me a white cotton nightgown. A weak smile is all I can manage until I meet her expectant eyes. Always a mother.

"Thanks."

Sarah gives me a look of concern before disappearing back into the room she shares with Sawyer. My voice sounds strange even to my own ears. Strained, needing to regain control I've lost. I was grateful my sister made no mention of it. There was going to come a time when Jane needed to say something – to let me know she was alive in there. The longer she kept silent, shivering in my arms, the less able I was to keep it together.

"Jane…"

For the first time since our kiss Jane looked at me, really looked at me, and what I saw was startling. There was ferocity in those eyes, a need to possess, to take control that I'd never seen. She was always a little bit nervous, unsure of her own needs and abilities, unable to communicate them. Half the time I found myself intuitively sensing what was bothering her, the other half I was just guessing. But that look wasn't foreign to me; it didn't leave much to guess work. After all, I'd seen it reflected in my mirror every time I thought of her in that black dress, wearing that ring on her finger.

Jane shrugged the towel onto the floor, peeling off her sports bra, and flinging it at my feet. My mouth hung open a little, shocked by her behavior twice in one night, it was a record. I tried not to stare at her breasts, tried not to think about taking those rosy buds in my mouth, tried not to think anything really. Jane could read my face though, she always could. Not that it mattered; I was too distracted, following the descent of her fingers as she slowly unbuttoned her jeans and shimmied out of them, to cover up my desire to have her.

"Jane I think we should – " I start talking, my ragged voice barely audible, trying desperately to put some space between us.

"Stop talking Kurt."

My mouth opens and snaps shut just as quickly. I can sense the strain inside her and for once I'm not inclined to argue. It's obvious to me Jane is struggling with an inner demon – something eating away at who she's become – and more than that she obviously knows what she needs from me. If not, she would have returned to her safe house, or bureau headquarters. She would've called Zapata or Reade or alerted her detail. But she hadn't.

Jane had shown up on my doorstep for a reason. I watch, torn, as she reaches for the rim of her underwear. Plain and black like her sports bra, my mouth suddenly goes dry. They're functional little things, not made to have an effect on men. But the way she looks at me as she slides them off, that proprietary look, it's fanning the flames of desire –fighting against the fear I'd felt moments before.

So I nod, following her lead. She lifts her arms up as I debate my next step, and just for a moment I see a glimpse of the old Jane. Or the new Jane. Or whoever she had become since I knew her – a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Jane can read me like a book whenever she wants and surprisingly the idea doesn't bother me as much as it would've in the past. I slide the gown over her head, admiring the way it flows over her lithe body in slow motion. She's tinier than Sarah, so the gown is a bit looser than I'd like, but I vow to change that come the weekend.

"Take me to bed Kurt."

It's the second time she's used my name tonight and I'm more than happy to comply. Both arms wrap around me as I pick her up, cradling her still shaking body close to me. Jane's extremities are freezing, but as she leans her head against my chest I know it'll be okay. I've got enough warmth for both of us.


	2. Chapter 2

I stumble out of the car, eager to put as much distance between Oscar and myself as I can. I hate him – hate his longing glances, hate his knowledge of my past self, the way he talks about Weller with that hint of disdain in his voice. When he asked me where I wanted to go, Weller's was the first place I thought of. Kurt Weller, the man I'd profiled, the man I had every intention of using to enact justice and no intention of falling in love with. My chest squeezed painfully.

Oscar tugged at the edge of my jacket as I left the car, but I ignored him and kept walking. For better or worse I wiped my memory clean, and even though I could feel the emotions I'd had for him they were nothing compared to the way I felt about Weller. Maybe I hadn't intended for feelings to develop but I had to have known it was a possibility. Oscar said I watched Kurt for months, I knew everything about him before I had his name tattooed on my back. _I gave back the ring for a reason_.

"Jane? Jane!"

As I gaze into those intense blue-gray eyes, I want to tell him everything. He's obviously frantic; he can't keep his hands from my face, touching, prodding. For a second the pain washes away and I allow myself to bask in his care. I can only imagine what I must look like. I know I should've taken the time to clean up at the safe house, but the last hour sent my entire world into a spin and all I could think of was Weller. I allow him to pull me into his bathroom and strip me down without complaint. This man is real, he is my present and my future; he is my starting point.

I try to smile, but Kurt doesn't seem to notice – he's too preoccupied with getting me dry. _Such a good man_. The thought crosses my mind unbidden and in this moment I want him now more than ever. I make quick work of the rest of my clothing, noting my own desire reflecting back at me as I shed the last piece of material hiding my tattooed skin.

I ignore his weak protestations, his desire to talk. I don't want to talk and judging by the way his mouth hangs open neither does he. _Though he'll never admit it_. He has no idea how endearing he can be.

"Take me to bed Kurt."

It doesn't take him longer than a second to sweep me into his arms like some fragile china doll. A small lump forms in the back of my throat as all the memories of our time together run through my mind. Since the first day he walked into that interrogation room, let me touch his face so intimately even though it clearly made him uncomfortable, Kurt Weller became mine. I rub my cheek against his broad chest, breathing him in. Oscar may be my fiancé, or my ex-fiancé – frankly the whole thing makes my head hurt – but Kurt is my home.

"I'll be in that chair right there if you need me," he whispers, pressing a kiss against my temple. I can feel him second-guessing himself, as one knee remains propped against the bed, the other already on the floor.

He's being gentle and sweet and understanding; I should be happy but I find myself wanting more. I want the Kurt Weller I kissed earlier this evening; the one who wasn't afraid he'd break me. _You don't want him, you_ need _that man_. My gut is hardly ever wrong. Kurt is the only person that can wash this terrible day from me – instead I have an affectionate Agent Weller staring down at me like I've a few screws loose. _Enough of this_. Taking his face in my hands, our lips collide – tender at first – then more demanding.

Joy invades my body, then relief, and then hunger. Nothing has ever tasted so sweet, and for the first time since the kidnapping the tension in my limbs begins to fade. Kurt allows it to go on for a moment or two, meeting my tongue stroke for stroke, until we're both out of break. My lips graze his jaw, moving down to kiss his neck, his pulse racing against my lips. I've never wanted someone so much as I want him right now.

"This isn't a good idea, you're still in shock."

Kurt drags his hands from my body and just like that something in me breaks. The tears come unbidden, sliding down my face at an alarming speed, my shoulders shaking. It's more than fear, more than affection, which drove me to be with him tonight. Tomorrow everything would change – Weller would never forgive me once he knew I'd specifically chosen him. He would see it as the ultimate betrayal – worse than anything Mayfair could have done – and I would lose my chance.

"Don't cry, Janie," he says, slipping into the bed beside me. "I won't leave you."

The tears come harder on hearing the tenderness in that nickname; I want to believe him as he pulls me into his arms, dragging his thick blue comforter over us. _But you_ will _leave once you know_. The bitter voice is screaming amidst the swirl of thoughts coursing through my brain. I can try and hide it from him forever, keep him and Oscar from ever meeting. I can fess up now and never see him again. I gasp for breath, each inhale and exhale shorter than the last. My senses are going haywire – Kurt smells so good, his skin feels so warm and soft against mine. _Can't breathe_. Soon it gets so bad that I can barely feel his fingers dragging across my stomach.

And then without warning he's kissing my hair, my jaw, my neck. Kurt murmurs my nickname against my shoulder as he nips and sucks on the sensitive skin there. The feel of his stubble scraping against my skin is so deliciously distracting that the panic begins to subside. Tomorrow, I'll tell him tomorrow. Turning in his arms, I hook one leg over his hip pressing against the hardness I feel straining to break free.

He looks entirely too pleased with himself. _You know exactly how to get under my skin_. My fingers brush against his cheek absentmindedly. I don't want to live my life with regrets if I can help it – I don't want to end up like Patterson. If I have to let go of this man, I want at least one night where it's just him and me. I want to know what it would be like to be his, for him to be mine.

In the dim lamplight of his room Kurt brushes the hair from my face, intent on staring into my eyes; I know he's trying in vain to understand what's happening. I've gone from shell-shocked to horny, to a sobbing mess, and now my tears have been replaced with need. I reach for his hand, pulling it toward my mouth. He wants to look in my eyes? Fine, let him see what I want to do to him. I take one digit into my mouth, sucking and teasing, until I sense his control beginning to skip. He groans, pulling me closer, his hips bucking unconsciously against mine. I know my need to possess him is selfish; the truth is he deserves better than to have his emotions tossed about like a yo-yo.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, closing the distance between our mouths.

And for the first time since awakening in Time Square without a shred of memory, I know I've never been surer of anything my whole life.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! The semester is almost over so hopefully the updates should be coming in quicker now. Happy Reading!**

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"You slept like a rock."

It's not a judgment just an observation, but my body stiffens up beneath her anyway. How long have I been out? And how long has she been awake? After four rounds of frenzied – boarding on aggressive – lovemaking we'd both collapsed into a gelatinous heap. Jane was the first one out despite a valiant effort not to fall asleep. I'd never seen a civilian so terrified to close their eyes. It was the sort of thing you saw in soldiers returning from the front lines, people who'd lost a bit of themselves if only for a moment.

The thought terrified me. Jane allowed me to spill my seed inside her four times, but she didn't trust me enough to tell me what happened after she left my apartment. God knows I tried, but as soon as she threatened to leave my bed I made the hard decision. She could have her secret for now, if it meant I could keep her safe in my arms. Instead of talking, Jane traced patterns all over my bare chest, my arms, my jaw; almost as if she was memorizing every inch of me. _As if I was going to disappear._

The realization worried me at the time, but then she'd fallen asleep. Each even breath was a lullaby to my ears, soothing away the gut-wrenching anxiety threatening to overtake me. I glanced at my alarm clock. Sarah and Sawyer would be up soon, readying for our first family Thanksgiving with dad since I was eighteen. I still wasn't convinced he didn't have something to do with Taylor's disappearance. Jane was the reason he was here. What she would say, what she would do, it was starting to rub off on me.

"After last night could you blame me?"

She squirms against me playfully, her breasts stroking my skin, setting my blood on fire. _Do you know what you do to me_? The question is unspoken, but the self-satisfied smirk gracing those pale lips tells me all I need to know. Jane knows exactly what she's doing to my self-control – and she loves it. Well two can play at that game. I flip her onto her back, squelching any protest as my tongue begins to trace its way down her body. One tattoo in particularly catches my eye, distracting me from my mission much to Jane's displeasure. I laugh as she grabs the back of my head, trying to guide it where she so desperately wants it to go. She's right of course; Jane is an enigma in so many ways – but her tattoos are the last thing on my mind.

"Kurt," the sound of her moaning my name drives me wild.

Two minutes becomes ten and soon she's bucking against my mouth, her entire body beginning to quake. _Hmm_. Something niggles at the back of my brain as her moans grow louder but I hook her legs over my shoulders pushing the thought away.

In fact, I'm so busy sucking and stroking her with my tongue that I barely hear my sister calling through the door. Jane is fills up my senses in a way no one else ever has and it's only as she cums, her tart juices covering my chin, that I float back to Earth. I brush one stubbly cheek over her soft flesh, feeling incredibly thankful to have her here with me. Thankful. Thanksgiving. _Shit_. The knocking is growing insistent now, louder. I cringe a little. I haven't brought a girl home…well ever. Jane stroked my now burning ears leisurely. Now my family probably had a very good idea that Jane and I had made the leap from friends and coworkers to…what? Lovers? Boyfriend and girlfriend?

"Okay, okay. We'll be right out."

And just like that the world shifts beneath me. _We'll_ be right out, when did I become a part of a we? _Probably the moment you saw her in that dress._

"I should probably get going."

Jane pulls me up for a kiss, her tongue exploring my mouth hungrily – the air of finality still lingering between us. She can't leave now – not on Thanksgiving. I pull away, gazing into those sad green eyes, my thumb stroking her cheek. I didn't lie when Jane asked if I'd ever married – I _am_ choosy. No woman has ever inspired a commitment in me like she does.

"You're staying."

Jane gazes up with that deer in the headlights look. She opens her mouth and closes it several times, no doubt noting the stubborn set of my jaw. Out of all the things I'm grateful for today it's that she's here with me, safe, mine. There's no way I'm letting her change that


End file.
